You would think the lesson was clear enough from the first go ’round. Going to Eli’s means one of three things. (or 5, if you count “that you’re an idiot” twice.)
- you want another felony DUI stop, because that was fun.
- some chick (who might want to shag) suggested it.
- some chick (who assuredly DOES want to shag) suggested it.
Yes, you can put aside all semblance of pride for nos. 2 and 3. Worst case scenario: that 70-year-old in the bad wig asks for your number. Everything else is a win. Thank you, Sex Panther!
But now it’s years later. Eli’s is the same. You’re not. It’s like walking into a goddamn Pike party with the A Chi Os. They’re all assholes and bitches.[Ed.: Even if they’re not actually so worthless in real life, they may as well be, because this mixture is doomed.] It’s also like a Phi Sig party and you’re Pinto: the dancing is bad‘; a bunch of dudes are nursing their beers and looking lost and overmatched.
This was a bad choice.
Yep. That bad.
As I told a friend with “strategic rhinestones,” Eli’s is where you go when you already know someone (even if it’s just from earlier in the night when you both could hear) and she wants to dance, while you just want to close the deal. For introductions and conversations, IT’S THE SHIT. Literally.